The Omitted
by XNightxWingX
Summary: The Dutchman takes a woman on board. Desirae sacrificed herself in a carefully thoughtout bargain to save her remaining crew. Now she will witness things beyond her worst nightmares and thing in her wildest dreams. Takes place during 2nd and 3rd movie.
1. Pressganged

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTC or its characters. In this chapter I do own the plot of this story, Desirae, Jonathan, and the unnamed ship and its crew. Please, no flame, but I'm open for criticism. Thanks!**

**Other Genres: romance, angst, suspense, drama, supernatural, adventure**

**~*~*~Chapter #1~*~*~**

Thunder boomed, and lightning cracked, striking the raging waters in various places. Monstrous waves moved up and down in large hills of dark liquid, reseeding down once more to cause other smaller but equally as powerful waves as an aftershock. The wind whistled loudly, blowing the pouring rain in all directions. And, in all the chaos, a lone ship was attempting to sail through the storm, her sails flapping in the angry winds. On deck, the crew was scurrying around like a bunch of ants, shouting back and forth to each other and rushing to fill out the orders their captain gave to them from the helm.

"Secure those sails! Arnolds, help Mr. Smith with those ropes! Don't let that powder get wet!"

Numerous "aye Captains" could be heard all around the ship, and the Captain squinted at something through the rain. His eyes widened when he realized what it was.

"Secure the main topgallant, Miss Storms!"

Over near the ship's rail, a young woman looked up towards the sail, her dark, wet hair sticking to her face. The sail was about to snap free.

"Step to it!" the captain shouted.

Without a moment's pause, the woman, Desirae Storms, ran from her post and bolted to the mainmast. She climbed the shrouds skillfully, heading towards the sail ready to snap off the mast. Once on the right level, she ran down the yard and sail and grabbed the loose rope just before it snapped… but the wind was strong, and she found herself being jerked and pulled along with the sail, nearly falling from the mast, but she kept a tight hold, one hand still gripping the rope. She was almost sure the wind against the sail would rip her arm from her shoulder.

"Not good," she muttered. Gritting her teeth, she put all her muscle and strength into pulling herself back up, but it proved harder than it seemed. The sail was determinedly pulling on her arm, wanting to drag her into the depths. However, Desirae Storms was never one to be a quitter, no matter how much it hurt. She continued to fight and actually managed, though with a lot of strain, to bring the arm holding the sail back towards the mast, where she held tight a few moments. She was panting from the strain, and just as she was able to pull herself up a little more a hand appeared in her eye path. She looked up to see one of the crewmen, a young man with dark hair and vibrant green eyes, holding his hand out to her.

"Grab a hold, Dezi!" he shouted, over the wind.

Blinking, Desirae reached out and grabbed his hand, and he helped her back onto the yard and sail before helping to tie the sail back down.

"Daniel, you're bloody insane, you know that right?" asked Desirae, once the sail was secure.

They man, Daniel, merely grinned. "Ah, you know me. I can never resist a little danger… as can't you."

Desirae rolled her eyes and turned her head to the right— before suddenly snapping it there. Her eyes were wide, as she stared at something to the left… and then to the right. Daniel had noticed her shocked, terrified stare and got a questioning look.

"Dezi? Wha…" He trailed off when he realized what had her so frightened, but before either of them could say anything a voice cried out:

"KRAKEN!"

In a mere few seconds, the entire ship was filled with screams and shouts, the crew running in all different directions to avoid the giant tentacles that tried to grab them and pull them in. Not one soul seemed to hear their captain's orders, and Desirae could only watch in horror as one by one they were picked off by the tentacles that wrapped around them and pulled them to their death. This could only mean one thing.

"The _Flying Dutchman's_ coming!" Daniel shouted to her.

Desirae wasn't able to answer, for one of the tentacles hit the mast they were standing on before she could utter one syllable. It shook violently, causing them both to wobble dangerously before falling off the yard and sail. Desirae was able to grab a hold on one of the shrouds on her way down, and moving quickly, caught Daniel's hand when he fell passed her. His body jerked, and Desirae clenched her teeth when her shoulder nearly got pulled from the socket, but she held strong, looking down at Daniel.

"Hold on, mate! Just hold on!" she called to him, even as the screams intensified and the sound of wood splintering reached their ears. Desirae looked down and was terrified at what she saw. There, where the deck once was, was the huge maw of the Kraken, rows upon rows of fang-like, jagged teeth like a meat grinder. The sight alone caused Desirae to pale considerably.

"Dezi!" she looked down at Daniel, as he stared up at her with wide, green eyes. "Dezi, you have to let go!"

"Are you mad?!" she practically screamed.

"Do it! Or we'll both be killed!" he shouted at her.

"No! I won't abandon you! It'll be all right, just— NO!"

"I'm sorry, Dezi." With one clean swipe of his sword, Daniel fell towards the giant maw of the Kraken, leaving his amputated hand still in Desirae's limp grasp.

"NO!" she screamed.

Daniel closed his eyes as he fell into the water with a splash, disappearing in the Kraken's jaws. Numbly, Desirae dropped the hand, moving to get a better hold on the ropes, as she rode out the attack, her eyes glistening. She was forced to watch for another fifteen minutes her crewmates and friends die and be tossed around, but the Kraken finally seemed to become satisfied and began to unwrap its tentacles from the now ruined ship. The vessel was now in two pieces— literally. Debris, dead bodies, random broken planks, shattered crates, blood, and basically everything else that came with a lethal attack was either spread throughout the shattered deck or floating about in the water.

Desirae could see a few of the crewmembers still alive, and it gave her some hope, but before she could dwell any further in that hope a terrible cracking noise reached her ears, and the next thing she knew she was being shaken terribly and was falling towards the deck. One of the retreating tentacles had shattered the base of the mast she was on, and she found herself falling towards the deck at a quick speed. All the way down, she screamed, and the few survivors had to jump out of the way as it crashed across the deck, resulting in a deafening crack.

For a moment, it was silent. Desirae was faintly aware of her name being called by the crewmembers, and she could have sworn she was being lifted off the mast and set on the ruined deck, but she was too out of it to tell.

"_Desirae…" _The voice was distant, as someone tapped the side of her face. _"Desirae, wake up!"_

"_Dezi…"_

The next thing Desirae knew was that the voices around her were suddenly shouting again with renewed fear they had expressed during the fatal attack by the Kraken, and Desirae heard swords being drawn… something was happening, and by the sounds of it, it wasn't good news. She could make out familiar voices and animalistic growls. What was happening?

Groaning, she gradually forced herself back into consciousness… despite the pain in the back of her head. She knew she'd hit it on the way down, and it hurt to say the least. But she had to find out what was going on. It was her responsibility to keep the crew safe as possible. Her crew needed her help. Forcing her eyes open, she gasped at what she saw.

"Holy mother—!" On reflex, she swiftly kicked her foot up, aiming at the man's crotch that was standing over her… that is if you wanted to call him a "man". He resembled more of a sea monster, his entire body covered in a mosaic of barnacles, seaweed, and other things, and only one of his eyes showed, the other half of his face completely covered over in barnacles. A chain with a heavy metal ball on each end was held in each hand… which he promptly dropped while crying out in pain when Desirae's foot collided with his groin. Desirae kicked up off the ground and landed on her feet, stumbled back, and looked up and widening her eyes.

Around the ship, others of the sea demon crew looked their way at the cry from the crewman, and Desirae stared for a long moment before blinking. The ship was full of men — not men — sea monsters! They were covered in all kinds of sea fauna, crustaceans, barnacles, and shells, tentacles, spines, etc. If it was from the sea, they had it.

However, now was no time to gawk like a brain-dead mental patient. She realized this when a sword flew past her head, and she immediately snapped into action. The crewmember she'd kicked shifted to her right, and she swiftly shoved him down and unsheathed her broadsword, turning to face the enemy crew. One of the crewmen, one that resembled a puffer fish, caught her eye, and she beckoned him forward.

"All right, Pincushion, show me what you got!"

He ran at her with a vicious snarl, and Desirae skillfully fended him off with a fancy sword combination and threw him to the side—only to be greeted by another _three_ crewmen.

'_Oh boy…'_ Dexterously, she aimed to take out all three at once, twisting and turning with each attack, and with surprising ease she managed to stab one that appeared to have no face through the gut, turned to the one behind her and gave a powerful front kick to his chest that sent him reeling backwards, and she took care of the last by blocking his attack with her rather large sword and kneeing him in the gut. Desirae grinned triumphantly to herself; however, her victory was short-lived because….

'_Oh… double shit…' _She froze when she saw a bunch of the crew had turned their deformed faces on her, as they slowly began to close in on her, their faces—if you could distinguish their faces—set in venomous snarls. Glancing to her side, Desirae could see the crewman with the chain shots getting back to his feet, as were the others she'd just fought, and their faces were particularly ticked. There was one thing Desirae knew… when these guys _did _manage to get their hands on her—which would probably be in the next few seconds—they hadn't made best first impressions with each other.

'_Well, look at the bright side, Dezi. At least ye got a good kick in on that git with the chain shots.' _She smirked with grim humor. As they closed in on her, she slowly backed up until she was poked in the back by a sword, and she turned—

"Ahh!" She stumbled back a couple steps when she found herself face-to-face with a crewman who's face wasn't even close to human anymore. He smirked at her with a mouth full of barnacles.

Blinking, Desirae turned away—and the puffer fish guy was right there, the side of his face that had spikes puffing in and out angrily. Desirae slowly swallowed when he brought the tip of his sword up to her throat, keeping there while talking in a menacing voice.

"So, what'll it be, missy? Ye gonna come quietly, or do we just have t' cut yer pretty little self down?"

Desirae stared at him. Little? _Little_? She hardly thought of herself to little.

"Excuse me, but I hardly find myself as 'little', Pincushion," she growled, temporarily forgetting her fear.

There were a few snickers among the crew, and Desirae felt a strange satisfaction when she saw the crewmember's face puff up angrily. He pressed the tip of the sword a little harder against her throat.

"That's Koleniko to ye, whelp," he growled.

Desirae didn't say anything, but a sudden voice caught her abrupt attention.

"Dezi!"

She snapped her head around and peered over the crowd of deformed men before spotting the few members from her crew that had survived. It seemed it was only she and two others, but it was better than nothing. One of them was a young blonde man no older than twenty-three, and he was looking at her with wide, frightened blue eyes.

"Jonathan!" She moved to hurry to his side, shoving through the crowd and avoiding hands until she was mere feet from him, when a cold hand grabbed her wrist, holding her back.

"Unhand me!" She jerked at the crewmember's hold, but his grip was like an iron clasp. She pulled at the ruffian once more. "Let go, you…" She trailed off when she was spun around, and she found herself staring into the blue eye of a man that resembled a hammerhead shark. The skin without barnacles was a bluish-grey, and he had a basically human-looking face… minus the hammerhead protrusion from his skull. Crustacean legs went in a row up his back; the hand that gripped her wrist was cold as ice, and Desirae was startled, the claws that tipped each finger digging into her skin through her sleeve. His other hand seemed to be encased in a lobster shell gauntlet. One of his eyes had been swollen shut or was nearly at that point, but Desirae could feel his good eye drilling right through her, its gaze icy as his hand. Desirae found herself unable to speak, and he snarled in her face.

"Get in line, whelp," He threw her down beside her crewmates, "and keep quiet!"

"That's what I was doing until you—"

"Dezi," the blonde boy, Jonathan, took her hand to calm her, "don't. You don't want to tangle with him," he said, in a hushed tone, watching from the corner of his eye as the shark man walked off.

"Why not? He's just like the rest of them… damned and looking for a broadsword through the throat," Desirae spat, glaring at each of the crewmembers with an equal amount of distaste.

"He's not just one of the crewmembers, Dezi," Jonathan said. "That's Maccus… the first mate."

"And you know this how?" She finally turned to look at him.

He seemed to shrug. "While you were fighting off the others, I overheard a crewman address him as such—" He was abruptly cut off, however, when the crewman standing behind him suddenly hit him across the face with the dull end of his axe, earning a cry of pain from Jonathan. Desirae snapped her head up to glare daggers at the crewman and practically snarled.

"HEY!" She went to pounce the sea monster, and Jonathan called to her while holding his head.

"Dezi, no!"

She wasn't able to reach the crewman, though, because she was jerked back when a slimy hand and tentacle wrapped tightly around her wrist, holding her back. Desirae yelped at the cold, gooey texture and snapped her head back around—only to be face-to-face with….

"Davy Jones…" the man beside Jonathan breathed. Jonathan himself could only stare wide-eyed at the octopus-faced captain, his eyes showing more fear than Desirae had ever seen from him. Jones' electric blue eyes bore into Desirae's with an intensity that made even her squirm slightly. He didn't look angry… just threateningly calm.

"Hello, lass. Do ye want to continue that?" he asked her, his voice containing a thick Scottish accent.

Desirae, trying to keep her mind off the slimy hand gripping her wrist, forced a brave look and replied quick-wittedly: "Very much. But something tells me I'm not going to be given the chance right now."

"That ye aren't," he said, earning a few snickers from the crew. "But ye are going to get a different chance," he continued, using the same slightly mocking tone.

"And what might that be, sir?" asked Desirae smartly, already knowing the answer.

Jones leaned into her face, his beard of tentacles twisting around on his face. "Do ye fear death-uh?"

"Don't answer him, Dezi!" Jonathan shouted, but he silenced when Jones turned to him with an almost angry glare.

"Jonathan, stay out of it!" Desirae snapped, but Jones silences her.

"Shh, no…. Let the lad speak." He left Desirae's side and knelt down in front of the boy, staring at him directly in the face. It stayed that way—silent for a moment—when Jones suddenly shot his claw out and grabbed Jonathan by the throat.

"No!" Desirae tried to intervene, but one of the crewmembers held her back. "Let him go!" she snapped. However, she was silenced when someone roughly grabbed her from behind and slapped a cold hand over her mouth. Her first thought was to bite the hand but decided against it for two reasons. One: it would taste _terrible_, and two: it probably wouldn't make the situation much better for Jonathan anyway.

'_But you have to do SOMETHING, Dezi!' _Glancing up, she raised her eyebrows when she saw it was the shark man—Maccus was it?—that was holding her in place. She could tell just by his stature and emotionless eyes that he was high in the ranks. She was startled, though, when he looked down at her, immediately bearing his sharp teeth in a snarl. Desirae swallowed at how sharp they were, but she kept a stern front while turning back to Jones and Jonathan.

"Do you not fear death, boy?" asked Jones, his tone calm. It didn't take a genius to figure out the danger, though.

Jonathan swallowed. "No, sir, I don't."

Jones looked up at the same seaweed covered crewman that had prodded Desirae's back with his sword. "To the depths."

Nodding, the sea monster lifted his axe over his head and was just about to hack it down on Jonathan's skull. That was when Desirae did something she was sure she'd regret.

"WAIT!!"

Squeezing her eyes shut just as the axe was about to kill Jonathan, there was a long moment of silence, and Desirae wondered if he'd been killed. However, when she heard no cracking of skulls or the sound of a body being tossed overboard… she dared to reopen her eyes and hesitantly glance in Jonathan's direction. He wasn't dead! But he was deathly pale, looking as if he'd just seen a ghost. _'Well, he did just narrowly escape death…' _Her attention was brought to Jones when he looked to her, looking somewhat annoyed.

"Do ye wish to be next, missy?" he asked, in a dangerous tone.

"Don't harm him…. T-take me instead… please." She was whispering by the last part, her voice showing no fear at all whatsoever, but she was nearly overwhelmed with it. She knew what this could get her. She knew it all too well.

"Dezi, no—"

"Quiet, boy!" snapped the crewman behind Jonathan, pressing the blade of his sword against the boy's throat. He was silenced, but his eyes clearly told Desirae not to do what she was about to.

"No." She looked back to Jones as he spoke. "Ye cannot take his place-uh. One soul is not equal to another."

Desirae stared back into his eyes, her brain rushing to think of something—_anything_—to save the boy's life—and the other man, now that she thought of it. She remembered what her captain had told her—more of asked of her—if he ever was killed in battle. He had asked her to keep the crew safe and assume the position as captain. She had been shocked at the request—but found herself respectively making a vow to do as such.

Desirae Ramirez Storms never broke her vows.

"I understand that. But perhaps we could work out our price from there then?"

Jones seemed to pause and straightened up. "Price?" He popped his lip, and interested expression on his face.

Desirae inhaled a calming breath through her nose, making sure to keep her face empty. "Yes." She looked up to meet his gaze. "If I'm mistaken, correct me. Legend has it you take sailors and give them two choices—serve or die. If they choose to serve, they need to serve one hundred years before the mast, correct?"

"Aye," Jones confirmed. "Where might ye be goin' with this, missy?"

"Take me in place of my two crewmembers. I'll serve three hundred years in their place. You can have my soul…"

Mumbles broke out in the crowd, but seemed to stop almost immediately after. Jonathan, on the other hand, looked determined to stop this.

"Dezi, don't do this!"

"Jonathan, stay out of this," said Desirae sternly, not looking at him.

"No, you can't—"

"Damn it, boy, can't you give me a moment of honor? Is it too much to ask for?" That seemed to silence the boy long enough, because Jones spoke once more.

"Ye'd be willing to do that, would ye?" His tone was mocking, speaking as if to a toddler.

"I would."

The crew sniggered amongst themselves, and even Jones chuckled slightly.

"And why would we be needin' a _girl_ on the _Flying Dutchman_ then?" he asked, not convinced.

"I can think of more than one reason," muttered Desirae. "For one, your ship needs more… _charm_ than it does now. Also, I'm not as weak as you think. I can lift over two hundred pounds, and I was first mate on this creaking tub, so I'm familiar with every job, term, and hardship. Just name your price, and I'll do it to save these men." She silenced after giving her little speech, waiting for Jones' response. The crew seemed to be a little anxious as well, looking back and forth between themselves, Desirae, Jonathan, and their captain at once. They, too, were interested in the decision. Off to the side, Jonathan sat impatiently, a look of distress over his face. He wanted to shout out again—but he knew it would get him nowhere. The man next to him—well—just basically cowered in fear. It seemed days passed before Jones finally made his decision.

"Done-uh!"

"No…" whispered Jonathan, but he swallowed when Jones turned to him. "Feel free to go ashore." He turned to Desirae and held out a slimy hand. "Shake on it?"

"Only if you promise not to harm then in any way. No Kraken, no nothing. Leave them be and take the deal."

He grinned sadistically. "Of course."

Grimacing, Desirae slowly held out a hand, and the next thing she knew she was letting out a small noise of surprise and disgust when cold slime covered her hand. It had to be the most revolting moment of her life, and when he finally did pull away… there was the Black Spot in her palm. It startled Desirae, quite frankly, when she saw that it was moving—expanding—almost as if it were alive.

'_Well, that's different…' _When she looked back up, though, she met Jonathan's devastated expression, his baby blue eyes staring at her with nothing short of heartache. The other crewman just looked scared, and Desirae approached them, a solemn look in her eyes. She knelt down before them and looked them in the eyes.

"Dezi—"

"You need to get out of here. Take the longboat and get to shore as soon as possible. Jones is a pirate; he can't be trusted." As she spoke, she kept her voice so only Jonathan and the other man could hear. But Jonathan tried to cut in again.

"Dezi, we won't—"

"Don't argue with me, Jonathan!" she snapped. "It's done, it's over, so deal with it." She sighed, running a hand through her hair to calm herself down. "Listen. If it's possible, spread out your belongings—hats, shoes, jackets, anything. If Jones does end up sending the Kraken for you, maybe it will get confused and go after your belongings first." She continued to stare into Jonathan's eyes, seeing the obvious reluctance. When she saw this, however, she instantly grabbed the boy's shoulders—a bit roughly. "Jonathan you need to promise me you'll listen to me. It's too late, you can't save me. Promise me you'll head for land." When he only stared at her, she shook him. "Promise me!"

"I-I promise," he finally said, his eyes shining.

"Good." She smiled slightly, but she was sure it came out more as a grimace, as she stood back up, knowing she wouldn't be waited for by the crew. As she was going to turn away, though, she paused and gripped a necklace around her neck. She stared at it thoughtfully a moment before reaching up to unclasp it, taking Jonathan's hand and placing the small trinket inside.

"Take it to remember me by." She curled his fingers over it.

Clenching it tightly in his hand, he looked back up at her. It was obvious he was holding back tears, but he never let them fall.

"I won't forget you. And don't think I'll abandon you. Just… promise me you won't let them break you."

Desirae smiled weakly. "I think you know me well enough to know that won't happen. Just don't do anything stupid. Stay-on-land." She suddenly felt a large hand grasp her shoulder and hauled her to her feet with brute strength. It was like she was a feather. She was dragged backwards, but she soon regained her composure and jerked her arm up and sharply downwards, breaking the crewmember's grip.

"I can walk by myself!" She turned to send one last reassuring smile Jonathan's way before being forced to walk with the crew. Still on the deck, Jonathan looked down at the necklace Desirae had given him, a few tears slipping down his cheeks. He couldn't believe he'd let that happen.

"I'm so sorry, Dezi." He clenched the trinket before looking back up—to see that the crew of fish people and Desirae had completely disappeared. He could only stare blankly for a long moment, and the man next to him tugged at his arm.

"Jonathan , come on!"

Forcing himself to gain control over his emotions, the young man slowly got to his feet and glumly walked over to the longboat, which was flipped over on the deck. He knew they'd be hunted by the Kraken, and he knew it was inevitable that they would die before they reached land.

* * *

Preview to next chapter: _Desirae grunted in response. She knew she was being a little rude, but that was the point. She was testing him. She tested everyone she met. There was a moment of silence, and she thought he left for a moment--when he suddenly spoke._

_"Do you have a name , lass?"_

_Desirae didn't answer right away. "You?"_

_"My name it Bill Turner, but the others call me Bootstrap Bill, so you may call me that."_


	2. First Day

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTC or its characters, but in this chapter I own Desirae and the plot. Please, no flame, but I'm open for criticism. Thanks!**

**~*~*~Chapter #2~*~*~**

"Move, ye wretch!" The crewman covered in seaweed and that had a mouth of mussels shoved Desirae forward roughly, and she stumbled but managed to keep her footing. Straightening up, she raised her eyebrows. _'Well, these people seem cheery enough…' _She rolled her eyes at the thought, but kept moving. She was led over to where the octopus-like captain stood with the hammerhead first mate, Maccus, and she was greeted by disdainful glares from them. There was no doubt in her mind it was because she was female that they were treating her like dirt—and she'd only been there a total of fifteen minutes!

"All right, missy, don't ye be expectin' any special treatment because ye're a girl-uh. Maccus will be in charge o' yer duties until 'e thinks ye can find the brains to do it yourself-uh. Understand?"

Desirae glanced up at him from under her lashes, her face somewhat dark. "Transparently."

Jones narrowed his eyes at her. "And you are to address me as 'Captain' or 'sir'."

"Sure thing. And… is Maggie here gonna eat me when my back is turned, or…?"

Both looked blank for a moment—when Maccus suddenly got a snarl.

"It's Maccus, ye stupid wretch! And ye're to address me as 'sir' as well. Got it, whelp?" He growled, showing his razor sharp teeth.

Desirae thought it wise to shut up now and nodded the slightest bit. "Yes, _sir_."

Maccus gave her a narrow-eyed look, but before he could say anything Jones cut him off with a stern order:

"Maccus, take her out o' me sight-uh. I don't want to see either o' ye again before sundown-uh."

Maccus nodded. "Aye, sir." He then turned to Desirae with a renewed snarl. "Don't just stand there, wench, move!" He shoved her forwards, and Desirae could already feel her anger boiling up, but she exhaled a calming breath to release it. _'Stay calm, Dezi. You're already stuck here for 300 years, do you want to make it worse than it already is?' _Three hundred years on this ship….

At least her first assignment was one she was familiar with. She was told to clean the cannons along with a few other crewmembers. Upon approaching the cannons, she recognized one of them, to her dismay, the one she had nailed in the crotch back on her ship, and near him was a guy with a conch shell for a head and another guy that was just a mess of things. He had tendrils sprouting from one eye socket. _'Can he even see?'_ Mandibles were in place of his mouth, and his right leg had been fused with a tentacle. He carried a sawfish bone sword. He also had tube worms hanging like a Rastafarian hairdo.

Desirae almost tripped when he suddenly looked her way, and she was afraid she was caught staring. However, she simply walked over to them, keeping a confident air, and got to work. She could tell the other three were staring at her as they worked, but she didn't particularly care. Tying her black hair back in a ponytail, she began on the inside of her cannon. They were as bad as the rest of the ship, absolutely covered in barnacles, shells, and even a few crab exoskeletons. Black ash also came off on the rag, and Desirae wrinkled her nose in disgust. It was hard to think anyone could live in these conditions. Her nose wrinkled again as she became aware of the ship's smell. It was something similar to low tide.

'_Gross…'_

A dark chuckle suddenly turned her attention towards the sailor with the chain shots. She slowly turned her head to glare at him. He was smirking at her with a cruel air, his eye that was visible glinting with evil and mischief.

"How's the nose, whelp?"

Desirae furrowed her brow at the attempted joke. Instead of answering, however, she bit back with, "How's your balls?"

The man with a conch shell for a head laughed out loud at this, while his buddy seemed the least bit pleased, glaring dangerously at Desirae.

"She got you, Clanker," he laughed.

"Shut it, Hadras, afore I knock yer head off yer shoulders!" snapped chains shots.

"Both o' ye shut it, or I'll call the bo'sun over here! And you!" Desirae looked to the guy with the sword, and he pointed it in her face. "Stop tryin' to cause trouble, ye wretch!"

She felt immediate anger boiling inside her. Wretch? _Wretch_? That was a new one. She was about to return to her work begrudgingly, when—

"Back to work, wench!" Maccus strode by, slapping her upside the head none too gently with his clawed hand. Grumbling dark oaths under her breath, Desirae set back to work on her cannon, managing to catch the looks crewmembers were giving her in the process. She sighed. Yes, this would be a _very_ long 300 years.

She thought _those _few hours were Hell. Now she was picking off tiny barnacles one by one from the rails, which wasn't too bad. What was bad was she knew the boatswain was watching her every move. She'd caught the gaze of the stonefish-resembling crewman, and he was doing nothing short of leering at her with that piranha mouth of his. The whip was tied around his waist, posing as a threat to anyone that it saw fit for punishment. Desirae wasn't facing him at this point in time, but she could feel his eyes drilling into her back every now and then—like right now….

She chose to ignore him, however, and continued diligently on her work. She already had a full bucket and was working on her second one, when a hand tapped her shoulder. On reflex, she whirled around and had her sword out in a second's time to point it to the man's throat in defense. The figure immediately put his hands up in defense.

"Hey, easy now, lass. I'm not here to cause trouble," he said hastily.

Desirae studied him closely through narrowed eyes. He was different than the other crewmembers. He looked more human, and his face had a starfish on the right side, his face tired but alert at the sword pointed at his jugular. However, he seemed harmless enough, and Desirae lowered her guard slightly.

"What do you want?" She went back to her work to prevent being caught by the bo'sun, keeping a close eye on the crewman at the same time.

"I was told to come check on your work." He then saw the two buckets that were filled to the top with barnacles. He raised his eyebrows. "Though, I really don't see the need to…"

"Why doesn't your first mate come check on me? He's the one that's supposed to be 'in charge' of me." Desirae dumped the bucket of barnacles over the ship's side and immediately got to filling them again, never looking at the man.

"He's currently dealing with something else at the moment, but at the rate you're going the bo'sun'll never get his hands on you."

"The bo'sun doesn't scare me. I've been through more scary things than a little lashing." She finally turned to look at him. "What's his deal anyway? I've only 'known' him for a few hours, and I can already tell he's bordering the lines of antisocial."

The man before her chuckled. "The bo'sun's been like that for a _long_ time. You'll get used to him in time."

"Does he have a name?" She didn't know why, she was just curious.

"Aye, he does. But if he catches you calling him it, he'll whip you for sure."

"That doesn't answer my question," said Desirae, grunting as she pulled off a stubborn barnacle.

"His name is Jimmy Legs, but remember what I said."

Desirae grunted in response. She knew she was being a little rude, but that was the point. She was testing him. She tested everyone she met. There was a moment of silence, and she thought of he left a minute—when he suddenly spoke.

"Do you have a name, lass?"

She didn't answer right away. "You?"

"My name is Bill Turner, but others call me Bootstrap Bill, so you may call me that."

She nodded. "…Desirae…"

"Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, then." He held out a hand, and she snapped her head to it, alert. She stared at his hand a long moment. _'He seems nice enough…' _Cautiously, she accepted his hand and shook a brief second.

"It's a pleasure, Bootstrap. Now if you will excuse me, I really should be getting back to work."

He nodded. "Aye…. See you later then."

Desirae didn't respond as she chipped off another barnacle, and Bootstrap disappeared back into the crowd. She was left to her thoughts, which were not focusing on one thing specifically. Bootstrap Bill…. Why did that name sound so familiar? She couldn't remember where she'd heard that before. She shrugged. _'Oh well, better get back to work, Dezi. Would't want ol' 'Jimmy Legs' to have a reason to whip you, aye?' _Rolling her eyes, she looked at how far she'd gotten with the task at hand since starting. The whole right side of the ship was almost done. She smiled to herself in satisfaction. She'd be done before nightfall. Dumping another bucketful over the side, she went to begin filling another bucket, when she heard a pair of feet stop behind her. the sigh that escaped her lips couldn't be held back when she heard a low sound that sounded like a hiss. _'Maccus…'_

"Can I help you?" she asked dully, prying another barnacle off the rail.

There was another hiss. "Ye are to address me as 'sir', whelp. I'm yer officer, and ye'll talk to me in that manner."

"I don't take orders from people who don't respect me," Desirae replied calmly.

"I'll talk to ye however I want, wench!" The first mate suddenly grabbed her shoulder and roughly spun her around to face him, snarling in her face. "And ye'll remember that next time, lest ye want a kiss from the Cat. Got it, wench? Now get back to work!" He turned and stormed away across the deck, Desirae's scowl following him the whole way. It wasn't until he was out of sight that she growled under her breath and turned to the rails, staring out at sea. _'Damn, Jonathan, you better not do anything stupid…'_

Before long, Desirae was just finishing up her task and went to return the buckets. As she walked across the deck, she didn't miss the looks and snickers amongst the crew; it didn't take a genius to tell they were pointed at her. But she didn't care. She really didn't. She'd been through worse in her life—much worse. Her past was so filled with such nightmarish oddities, in fact, she didn't even feel temptation to stare at the deformed men around her.

The sun was beginning to go down, and the crew was actually beginning to turn in. Ignoring them completely, she dropped the buckets in their place before heading towards where she saw Bootstrap standing at the rail. It puzzles her, because all the others were on the hold, while he was all alone. '_Strange…'_

"Any particular reason why you're not with the others?"

Bootstrap turned as Desirae approached him, and got a grim smile before giving a halfhearted chuckle.

"I am once on awhile. I just don't feel like being part of the action is all."

Desirae stared at him closely, the same somewhat suspicious and distrusting expression that she had earlier on her face. She turned to give a narrow-eyed glance at the crew; they seemed to be huddled around something in the center of the group. Almost curiously, she turned back to Bootstrap.

"What is it they're doing exactly?"

He looked at her. "It's called Liar's Dice. It's one of the only pleasures we have aboard this ship."

"Liar's Dice?"

"Aye." He gave her a lightly interested look. "Want to learn how to play?"

"That depends," said Desirae. "_Do_ I want to?"

He chuckled. "_That _depends on whether or not you like to risk things."

She studied him closely. "_Meaning_…?"

"Come on." He got up off the rail and headed towards the hold. "Take a look."

Desirae stared after him with narrowed eyes for a long moment—before rolling her eyes with a small scoff. A little reluctantly, she followed after him into the hold.

"…Four fours!"

"Five fours!"

"Liar!"

Desirae was slightly interested as she entered the hold with Bootstrap. The crew seemed to be more lively than usual, and she didn't fail to see two crewmen hovering over what looked like a game board with dice. She watched as the two crewmen played the game, studying them closely. Quite frankly, she was fascinated. She learned that they were betting years of service aboard the ship—which was kind of stupid in her mind. Why risk having more years?

"Wondering how it's played?" Bootstrap stepped beside her.

Desirae continued to watch them intently. "I understand how the game's played. It's a game of deception…. The only thing I don't get is why they're taking the risk of having more years."

"That's simple." Desirae turned to him, and he continued, "Once you've sworn an oath to the _Dutchman_, there's no leaving it."

Desirae's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

He gave her a solemn look. "Follow me." He turned to leave the hold, and Desirae followed after, with some reluctance. What was the man getting at, and where was he taking her now? He was so mysterious….

He led her below deck once more and over to a wall where her stopped. He waited for Desirae to catch up before looking at her a pointing to the wall.

"This is Wyvern… a result of what happens to you after so many years of service."

Desirae stared at him, confused for a moment, but when she looked at the wall…. _'Oh my God…' _There, on the wall—or rather _in _it—was one of the crewmen. It wasn't one she'd seen before, and he actually appeared to have some humanistic characteristics in his face, despite the curse. Like Bootstrap, it seemed that this man was able to keep his own face as well. His entire form was fused with the wall, save his left arm which was holding out a lantern. His eyes were closed.

"What happened to him?" asked Desirae, still studying the crewmember.

"This is what happens after you've been on the _Dutchman_ a long as Wyvern here," explained Bootstrap. "He's been here longer than any of us."

"But what about the hundred year sentence? I thought you were released afterwards?" said Desirae, confused.

"Once you've sworn an oath to the _Dutchman_, there's no leaving it."

She stared at him blankly, silent. It stayed like that for a long time, before she finally blinked, and Bootstrap smiled at her before clapping a hand on her shoulder.

"Sorry, lass. You aren't the first to make the mistake."

Desirae shrugged. "Well, I can't do anything about it now, can I?"

He shook his head. "Afraid not."

"Then I won't dwell on it." She looked at him when he shook his head.

"Not many things faze you, do they?"

"Oh, don't judge my emotions by my face, Bootstrap. Right now, I could probably kill Jones."

He let out a half chuckle. "I wouldn't say things like that if I were you. The captain listens in, you could say. He can hear everything that's going on this ship. You just never know when he's listening."

Desirae stared. "Sooo… he's a stalker?"

Bootstrap laughed out loud, a strange sound to hear from such a tired, depressed person. "I suppose you could put it that way, aye."

She looked back to Wyvern. "Poor bastard. He's literally a lump on the wall."

"Aye."

"Can he hear us?"

"Possibly, but most likely not. Once you're part of the ship, you slowly start to lose your memory and soon enough yourself."

'_Jeeze…' _"That's depressing."

Bootstrap shrugged—when he noticed Desirae's extremely deep in thought look. He immediately knew what she was thinking.

"What you did was an honorable thing. Foolish, honorable… and brave at that."

Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, she nodded. "Hmph. I just hope they don't do anything stupid… especially Jonathan."

"He's the boy?"

"Yes." She looked down at the floor. "But he's beyond his years… always ha been. I'm just afraid he'll try to come rescue me."

"Hmm… can I ask you a question?"

"What's the question?"

"I couldn't help but notice that interesting little trinket around your neck. What is its significance?"

"This?" Desirae picked up the pendant hanging around her neck from a long beaded chain, the red jewel in the center glinting in the dim light. "I've had this all my life. From the time I was born to when I became first mate on the Dawnlight."

"You were a first mate?"

She nodded. "Aye. I already miss her." She finally looked up at him. "But I have a new ship to focus on now… no matter how much of a disgrace it may be."

"Well, you have a much better attitude about it than most of us."

"Remember what I said, Bootstrap." She looked away again. "Don't judge my emotions by my face."

* * *

"Liar!"

At the shout, the three crewmen at the board lifted their cups, and the brief paused lasted only a second before the jeering a pointing broke out once more. Desirae watched from a far corner beside Bootstrap and some crewman she didn't know the name of. She'd been watching for about an hour now, curious but still at loss as to why they would risk receiving more years. _'Because you can't leave the ship… ever,' _she thought, with grin remembrance.

"Surprised the cap'n let a _girl_ on the ship."

Desirae turned her head to look at the crewman next to her. He was one of the chubbier crewmen. His transformation was particularly startling, as his face had lost all humanity. A single red eye peered out from a grimy, coral-like face dominated by a twisted mouth. He spoke with a gravelly tone, and wore a bandana. Desirae raised an eyebrow.

"Do you not like girls?"

She didn't have to repeat herself for the crew to get the joke. The hold instantly burst into spontaneous laughter.

"There somethin' ye want to tell us, Ogilvey?" a voice called. The crew laughed harder.

The crewman, Ogilvey, glared at Desirae dangerously, and Desirae herself was about to walk the other way, when Bootstrap suddenly yanked her to the side.

"Not the best idea, lass," he said, once they were out of range of the irritated Ogilvey.

"I don't care. If I'm immortal, I'm gonna stick up for myself more ways than one."

"Aye, but do it at the appropriate times, lass. Not just to fire up crewmembers."

"I'm a woman, Bootstrap. You wouldn't understand the anger that ignites me at female-based insults. I've had enough of them in my life. I can take care of myself."

The tone in her voice told she clearly meant to end the conversation for good. Bootstrap could only sigh in more of despair than anything else, but before anything else had a chance to happen, the worst thing possible at that moment happened.

"Hey, girl!"

Desirae turned to give the crewman a snooty look, and she was no less annoyed when she recognized the crewmember. He grinned at her.

"You play?" It was Pincushion—Koleniko.

Desirae narrowed her eyes at him. She knew what he was trying to do, and she wasn't going to fall for it.

"No thank you," she ground out.

"Awe, why not?" he cooed, in a baby voice. Desirae bristled. He was mocking her.

Because only a fool would play such an undignified, pointless game."

"I say she's scared," said a deep voice. Desirae looked his way and grimaced. It was Clanker.

"Scared? Honey, after seeing your lot—not to mention your little pet—losing a simple game doesn't cause me to throw a fit."

"Then play," said the conch shell man—Hadras.

"I grew out of board games when I was five. Sorry." She made sure to make her voice sound mocking. She could sense the crew bristle. "Now if you will excuse me, I'm going to rid myself of this childish activity." With that, she turned and left up the stairs of the hold, all eyes glaring after her. From inside the crowd, Bootstrap sighed. The girl had only been on the ship for a day—not even—and she was already getting into trouble. Quickly, before anyone else could, he followed after her.

"Dezi."

From where she was walking towards the rigging, Desirae glanced over her shoulder at Bootstrap.

"Not now, Bootstrap, please. I have to think."

"Might want to try that before you talk." He caught up to her and got in front of her, forcing her to stop. "I'm amazed they haven't come after you. You have to watch your back with these men, lass. They won't have pity or mercy on you because you're a girl—"

"I would hope not. I can take just as much as they can."

"Don't make yourself suffer more than you have to, Dezi. You deserve better—unlike most of us."

"Why you?" She looked up to meet his eyes. "What have you done?"

He chuckled at her question. "I'm a pirate."

Desirae wasn't convinced. He was obviously hiding something from her; she could tell by the sad look in his eyes. _'Fine then. He doesn't have to tell me. It's his business. But my business is none of his either.'_

"Goodnight, Bootstrap." She turned and jumped up to the shrouds, climbing up and disappearing in the sails with agility Bootstrap had never seen before. He could only stare up a moment before sighing and shaking his head in despair.

"The lass is too young to be in such a place…"

* * *

_Preview to next chapter: _ _"Don't count on those words," said Desirae calmly._

_"Why not?" asked Quittance, when he came down. Both stood before Desirae challengingly with their arms crossed over their chests. Sighing the slightest bit, she turned back to face them._

_"Becaue you don't know me."_

_"Oh, but we can fix that."_

_"Really." She lifted another crate to put it with the others, her voice never changing tone. When she got no answer, however, she became alert. 'Shit...' She went to pull her sword, but two large hands seized hers before she could do anything._

_"Get your hands off me!" she snarled, thrashing around wildly._


	3. Perplexity

**

* * *

**

Disclaimer: I do not own POTC or its characters, but in this chapter I own Desirae and the plot. Please, no flame, but I'm open for criticism. Thanks!

**~*~*~Chapter #3~*~*~**

The next morning, Desirae was up bright and early to receive her orders for the day. She walked swiftly across the deck, keeping a stony face and not making eye contact with anyone—except for Bootstrap. He was the only one that got any respect from her so far. Maccus was waiting for her impatiently at the helm, arms folded over his chest in a demanding manner, a prominent scowl over his features. He wasn't any happier to see her than she was to see him. Even so, she kept her mouth shut even when she thought of over a million not-so-friendly comments she could say to someone with a shark head. She would remain semi-respectful for as long as she could.

"Orders, sir?" she said, with no enthusiasm at all whatsoever.

He set his mouth into a snarl. "Ye're to help Quittance and Clanker with movin' the rest o' the cargo." He suddenly got a cruel grin. "Yer ship didn't disappoint."

Desirae growled low in her throat but otherwise just gave a sarcastic solute.

"Yes, sir!"

Maccus narrowed his eyes at her attitude, but she turned and headed off to her assigned job. Her mood wasn't any better than before and for a good reason. _'Clanker again… great…'_

At the sound of footsteps, Quittance looked up, and instantly he got a cruel look in his eye and chuckled.

"Lookie here, Clanker. It's yer best friend."

"What?" Clanker lifted his head, and… "Ah, come on!"

Desirae strode up to them at a confident gait, her head held high in indifference. She completely ignored their snide expressions and stopped before them with her arms folded over her chest.

"Sir Tool says to help you."

Quittance may have grinned at the name if he was capable of such anymore, but Clanker was sour as ever.

"And what makes ye think we need a girl's help liftin' a few crates?" He made sure to say the word "girl's" with extra distaste.

"Apparently your first mate does, since he's the one that sent me. So, I suggest you back off… unless, of course, you want to take it up with him." She shrugged. Both crewmen stared at her for a long moment, and she glanced between them. "Thought so." She turned and bent down to pick up a crate in both arms and immediately headed down to the cargo hold. This, however, caused Clanker's grin to return, and he, too, picked up one of the larger crated and followed after.

"I see ye can't take on the bigger ones, though." As he spoke, he seemed to look over his shoulder subtly, as if to call back to Quittance. He instantly caught on.

"Don't count on those words," said Desirae calmly.

"Why not?" asked Quittance when he came down. Both stood before her challengingly with their arms folded over their chests. Sighing the slightest bit, she turned back to face them.

"Because you don't know me."

"Oh, but we could fix that."

"Really." She lifted another crate t put it with the others, her voice never changing tone. When she got no answer, however, she became alert. _'Shit…' _She went to pull her sword, but two large hands seized her wrists before she could do anything.

"Get your hands off me!" she snarled, thrashing around wildly.

"Oooh, we got ourselves a feisty one here, Clanker," Quittance laughed.

"All the better!"

"Try this for 'all the better'!" Before they could see what was coming, Desirae flung her head back to knock heads with Clanker, who was holding her. As he let out a surprised shout, she brought the heel of her boot down, hard, on his toes, and she followed after that by twisting around and out of his now slackened grip.

"Chirst!" Clanker swore, as he took a step back with a bruised foot and a hand on his forehead. However, he and Quittance both froze and put their hands up when they found Desirae's sword at their throats. She was staring at them coldly, her eyes like storm clouds. She was pissed.

"Don't you _ever _try that again." Her tone was deadly, and with that, she sheathed her sword and ran up on deck, ignoring the two crewmen's voices behind her. She quickly ascended the stairs and ran towards the light; however, she didn't expect for Maccus to appear from nowhere at the last second.

"Oof!" She grunted upon hard impact with his chest. He seemed to snarl after getting over his momentary surprise.

"Whelp!" He grabbed her wrist and jerked her up straight, getting in her face. "Watch where ye're goin!"

Desirae looked up at him defensively. "With all due _respect_, sir, _you _were the one that came out of nowhere!"

He growled. "Why are all these boxes and crates still here?" he snarled.

"Why don't ye ask your two men that?" she responded icily.

"And why should I do that? Ye're the one runnin' around!"

"Because they were too busy trying to bring back some old memories!"

He paused, staring at her. "What?"

"_R…A…P_—"

"All right, I get it!" he shouted, in the middle of her spelling out the word. He then looked back up when Clanker and Quittance appeared at the top of the stairs; they seemed to jerk at seeing the fiery gaze of their first mate.

"Aw shit—"

"Clanker! Quittance!" Maccus marched up to them, and Desirae raised an eyebrow when he grabbed their throats and slammed them back against the wall.

"What part of the captain's orders 'do not touch her' do ye not understand?"

"Indeed what!"

Desirae froze and turned around, jumping upon seeing Davy Jones standing right there. She looked around. Where had he come from? She looked back to him when he spoke.

"What do we have here?"

"Two slackers, sir," replied Maccus, turning to face Jones with both Clanker and Quittance by the scruffs of their shirts. "It seems the new meat is provin' a distraction."

Desirae furrowed her brow. "_Me_?!"

Jones ignored her, his expression never changing. "Is that so?" He looked at the two men. "I this true, boys?"

They seemed to swallow nervously, glancing to Desirae, but all she did was stare at them coldly, folding her arms over her chest.

"Better answer your captain, _boys_."

They looked back to Jones, choking on their words. Maccus shook them both roughly by their scruffs.

"Answer!"

"Y-yes, sir." "Yes, cap'n," they both stuttered at once.

"I see..." Jones looked to Maccus and gave a single nod. The first mate appeared to understand, because he seemed to look past them to someone else.

"Bo'sun!" He walked forward and passed Desirae before shoving the two men at the boatswain. "Give these two slackers their punishment!"

Desirae stared after them in mild disbelief. Had the miserable sob really been waiting there for a chance to use that damned whip? Shaking her head, she turned back around to be face-to-face with Jones.

"And there won't be any more trouble from Miss Storms today, will there, missy?" His voice was expressing the same tone he'd used the night her ship got attacked. She stared back into his stormy blue eyes, lost for words for a moment, but a somewhat jabbing nudge in the back from Maccus knocked her back into speech.

"I wasn't planning on it, sir. However, your men seem to have a problem with controlling themselves."

This merely made him laugh out loud, leaning back from her face. "Most of these men haven't so much as seen a woman for decades. It is hard to deny them the chance when they are presented with it." He looked up at Maccus. "Try and put her somewhere she won't be a problem." Desirae scoffed, and he sent her a warning glance before continuing. "And if she so does happen to cause a disturbance, do not hesitate to give punishment yourself."

Maccus seemed to get a somewhat twisted grin. "Aye, sir."

Jones nodded, and sent one last derisive glance down at Desirae before walking off back to his cabin. She stared after him with nothing short of distaste. Why was everyone on this ship so chauvinist? _'They probably just don't like you because they know they can't have you,' _said the voice in her head. She sniffed. _'I'm sure. That or they're just miserable sods that go by the pirate superstition of having a woman aboard is bad luck…' _She rolled her eyes. More than likely. However, her thoughts were rudely interrupted when Maccus suddenly grabbed her by the arm and pulled her aside roughly. As they were walking back towards the bridge, he was mumbling things under his breath like "damn wench" and "all the wench is is a distraction". Desirae rolled her eyes, and he called out to two other crewmen.

"Ratlin, Ol' Haddy! Finish bringin' those crates to the cargo hold!" He then looked up. "Hadras!"

Desirae watched with a raised eyebrow as the crewman stumbled over to them, coming to attention in front of Maccus.

"Yes, sir?" he asked, fairly timidly.

"Take Storms here with ye down to the brig. Ye're to swab the floor spotless."

"Is that possible?" He looked down at Desirae, who shrugged innocently. "I'm just saying."

He scowled at her. "One more comment, whelp, and ye'll be scrubbin' the whole deck with yer tongue! Now get to work!" With that, he stormed off to wherever, leaving Desirae glaring after him once more. It stayed silent like that for another minute, when a tap on her shoulder snapped her out of her little moment.

"We should be gettin' to work, lass."

Desirae turned to face him. His body was covered with coral and barnacles, though most notably was the fact that his head was encased within a conch shell. He was the one she'd been assigned to work with earlier along with Clanker and that guy with the fishbone sword. She stared a long minute, and got a somewhat wry smirk.

"Is he always like this?"

He seemed to get an confused expression at the question. "Who, Maccus?"

She nodded.

"Yup, always."

"Great." Desirae started towards the brig to start her new chore.

"I thought you were helpin' Clanker and Quittance wit the crates?" asked the crewman, Hadras.

"I was," said Desirae somewhat darkly.

"…But…?"

She looked at him sharply, cutting into him with her words. "Look, just stay out of my business, all right? If you want to know so bad, ask your dear old friend Clanker later."

"All right, jeesh." He held his hands up defensively, before going to grab a mop and bucket in the corner. Desirae did the same and began her work with more force and energy than usual. She obviously didn't feel like talking, and Hadras decided not to push it any further. However, he did get on something else.

"So… I hear you were a first mate?"

"Who told you that?" She didn't turn around to face him, but there was no mistaking the suspicion in her voice.

"Overheard yer conversation with Bootstrap. Didn't mean to intrude…. So, is it true?"

"No, I lied about the whole thing." Desirae rolled her eyes.

"Oh…"

"Are you really that dense?" She finally turned around to look at him, and he seemed to straighten with a somewhat sheepish look, glancing to the side. Desirae shook her head. "Yes, I was a first mate!"

"Oh, okay!" He laughed some, causing her to roll her eyes again. "So, how does it feel? Taking orders from another first mate?"

"Okay, there's a difference between Maccus and me. I was loyal to my captain, and he was respectful to me. However, I was never my captain's bitch."

Hadras laughed out loud. "Try tellin' that to Maccus."

"I'd rather not. The last thing I need right now is to get on the bo'sun's bad side."

"Aye, I hear you. He's known to strip flesh from bone with every swing."

"Pleasant."

They continued to work in silence from there on, only stopping to shift to a different position. It wasn't until Desirae glanced up randomly at one of the cells that a thought struck her head and caused her to pause.

"Hey, Hadras?"

"Yeah?" He looked up.

"The crew can teleport, can't they?"

"Aye. Why?"

"Then what's the point of the brig if they could just teleport out?"

"Oh, yeah, that's a common question asked wit newcomers. Ya see, the brig is cursed as well. These cells are the only think we can't teleport out of."

"Ah…"

Before either of them could say anything else, a gruff voice rang through the brig.

"Storms! The captain wants to see ye!"

Desirae's eye twitched, and without turning around she glanced up at Hadras.

"Pincushion?" she muttered.

He cracked a smile. "Afraid so."

Nodding, she turned to face their guest. Sure enough, Koleniko stood at the doorway, arms folded over his chest in a similar way to Maccus—impatient and grumpy. He sneered at her.

"Move it, whelp!"

"Yeah, yeah, don't blow a vessel," she muttered, although making sure it was just loud enough for him to hear. His cheek with spines inflated angrily.

"Insubordinate!"

Desirae shoved past him, which in result caused him to shoved her to the side roughly. She staggered to her left, but quickly regained balance and continued on her way with a huff.

"Insolent little wretch," Koleniko muttered, under his breath.

"Grumpy grandma's basting tool," muttered Desirae.

Hadras watched after them, a somewhat comical grin on his face. Shaking his head, though, he got back to work.

"This should be a very interestin' hundred years…"

Desirae looked around when she came to stand on the deck once more. The crew was hard at work, obviously, unless they wanted a kiss from the Cat. She glanced over at the rail, where she spotted Bootstrap hard at work with a couple other crewmembers. She found herself wishing she was over there with him rather than going to confront the captain about whatever it was he wanted to talk to her about. If talking was even what she was being called for. He was the Devil of the Seas and was unpredictable. You didn't have to know him to know that factor.

Koleniko shoved past her and headed towards where the captain stood at the helm, grumbling "move it, insurgent" under his breath. Desirae sniffed disdainfully in his direction, but nevertheless followed him in the direction of the captain. A few crewmen looked their way curiously, those few including Clanker, who smirked and chuckled darkly when seeing where she was headed. Desirae merely rolled her eyes, ignoring him completely. She let the coxswain lead her up the steps of the helm and towards the captain. Jones was standing there, his remaining hand on the hilt of his sword and his claw tapping on the rail impatiently.

"Fond of wastin' my time, Miss Storms?" he asked mockingly.

Desirae glared at him coldly. "Better you wasting your time with me than wasting some poor innocent soul for nothing!"

The crew all turned in interest just as Jones slapped Desirae hard across the face. "Ye're on ME ship now, and I am yer captain. As such ye will treat me with respect."

Desirae turned back to him and glared at him hard. '_I'm not afraid of you, you blackguard.'_ "You're not my captain until I say so."

Jones glared daggers back at her. "Well then I suggest ye say so now, missy." He suddenly reached out and grabbed her collar, turning to show her to the crew.

"BOYS! Meet yer new mate!" Jones roared.

They all laughed at her expense. Desirae growled low in her throat before snatching her hand away from Jones.

"I'm stronger thank you think I am, Jones. Get ready, because this will be one untamed three hundred years!"

Jones stared at her hard. "Will it now?"

Desirae glared.

"And what makes ye think I won't just give ye to the bo'sun, and then toss ye back down to the brig so ye can become part of the ship three hundred years in advance, hmm?"

Desirae studied him carefully. It was just then she was noticing something she didn't notice before. What was it? Every time she looked into those cold blue eyes she could feel something poking at her memory. _'Why does he seem so familiar?' _And that was just a load of crap, because she never saw the man… octopus… before in her whole life! _'He wasn't always like this though…' _She stared at him a bit longer.

Then it hit her.

"Are ye goin' ter answer me, whelp, or should I take yer silence as an answer?"

His voice snapped her out from her thoughts, and she squeezed her eyes shut a moment before shaking her head and looking back up at him. That was it!

"You have no idea who you're talking to, do you?" Her voice wasn't disrespectful or snobby, but it was calm and almost knowing.

Jones was taken aback by the question, and he leaned back to look at her with a curious gaze.

"Should I?" He popped his lip, his voice mocking her.

"Does the name Aquila mean anything to you?"

Jones froze on the spot, his memory instantly being attacked by countless memories. What the heck kind of a question was that?! He stared at her closely, his surprised gaze going to narrowed within a second. What was the girl playing at?

"What does the name have that concerns ye, Miss Storms?" he asked her, trying his best to hide his curiosity.

"It really is you…"

He raised a brow. "Pardon?"

Desirae shook her head. "Nothing. Perhaps we should continue this discussion some other time."

Jones frowned at her. She was testing his nerves with her overly confident air and somewhat smart mouth. However, he wasn't about to look stuck in front of his whole crew, who had turned to stare by now in interest, and he instead got a slow smirk.

"Aye, ye have a point." He looked up at the bo'sun a couple feet away. "Take this one down to the brig. I'll deal with her later."

Desirae's eyes betrayed surprise at his response. She had suggested to talk about it later not be locked in the brig! She growled when a pair of hands grabbed her by the arms, and she fought against the bo'sun angrily.

"You don't know who you're dealing with, Jones!" she shouted, as she was dragged down to the brig. She was thrown into a cell carelessly, and the bo'sun growled:

"Shut that trap o' yers, wench!"

Desirae glared at him, her eyes burning in anger and regret, following him as he walked out of sight. What has she done to deserve this? _'Well, I can't say I didn't expect to be stuck here at some point anyway…' _She brushed a strand of ebony hair out of her face and walked to a corner. She didn't cry. It wouldn't help anything. She didn't even feel like crying, because it was more of punching the daylights out of that squid that interested her the most at the moment. Her hand went subconsciously to the pendant she wore around her neck. Its chain was made of pretty beads. Just touching it reminded her why she was there and why she couldn't turn back now. She was in deep, and she was fully aware of the fact she was going to get in even deeper.

However, she didn't know how deep she would really get.

After Jimmy Legs had effectively dragged Desirae into the brig, Jones stalked off to the side of the ship, where he looked out at the endless waters that surrounded the ship. _'Who is that girl?' _He tried to wrack his brain for the lost information, but nothing came to him. It bothered him—to not know something that was going on around his ship. He _always _knew what was happening, yet this simple girl had him puzzled. It caused him to feel insecure, and he didn't like it one bit.

'_I'll just have to look further into it a little later. Maybe this girl has more to offer than the eye can see…'_

_

* * *

_

_Preview to next chapter:_

_Fast as lightning, someone flew in from nowhere and shoved the bo'son out of the way. He let out a surprised shout and stumbled into a few nearby crewmembers, who managed to catch him by the arms. Everyone seemed surprised by the sudden interruption, and all heads looked over to see Desirae standing there, her shoulders squared and feet posed in an angry stance. A few surprised voices were heard in the form of mumbles, as the bo'sun managed to get back on his feet. He looked up at Desirae angrily and snapped his whip in her dorection._

_"You! Whelp! That's ten more lashes!"_

_"Don't--ever--insult--my--mother!" And she lunged at him like a wild cougar, eyes full of bloodlust and hate. She collided with the bo'sun, and the both went crashing to the deck with her on top._


	4. Secrets and Violence

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTC or its characters, but in this chapter I own Desirae and the plot. Please, no flame, but I'm open for criticism. Thanks!**

**~*~*~Chapter #4~*~*~**

Desirae sat in her cell, watching as a little crab climbed up the wall with other tiny sea creatures. It seemed so content—so worry-free as it scurried around amongst the other creatures. Desirae found herself whishing she was that crab, that way she'd have no qualms. She shook her head, however, quickly dismissing such thoughts. _'Stop it, Dezi. Wallowing in self pity won't help the situation.'_

She closed her eyes briefly. She knew she'd end up here someday, but she never really thought much of it or what it'd be like. This ship was full of the Old Scratch, and its king was going to confront her when he saw it fit. She could be there for days!

"You know, you should be more careful around the captain."

Desirae looked up sharply in the middle of the sentence, but she relaxed upon seeing Bootstrap standing there. She stared at him.

"You don't know me, Bootstrap, nor do you know my purpose here. So if you will please mind your own business, it would be appreciated." She looked back forward again, her face stone set.

"And what might that be?"

"That is strictly between Jones and me. I don't share personal information with people I just met, Bootstrap."

"Fair enough…" He studied her closely. "But I still encourage you to be careful. The captain is famous for his harsh and unpredictable temper. He'll sick the bo'sun on you in a second."

"Like I said before, a little lashing isn't going to scare me. I've been through much worse."

"The bo'sun is the least of your problems when it comes to the captain. Yes, he prides himself from cleaving flesh from bone with every swing, but if you give the captain a reason to flog you himself… you can say goodbye to more than just skin."

"Well, if he thinks he needs to strike fear into people to make them listen to him that's his problem. He hasn't gotten to know me yet and what I'm capable of. If he thinks I'm going to back down and cower under his wrath he's got something else coming."

"You are too rebellious for your own good," said Bootstrap with a defeated nature. "No one has ever stood up to the captain like you do."

She merely shrugged. "If not me then who?" She looked at him, a glint of meaningfulness in her eyes. Bootstrap stared back, thinking about her words. The girl was a bit bold, but she also displayed certain moments of wisdom. She was beyond her years and it only made him more curious as to who she really was.

"And what might you be doing down here, Mr. Turner?"

Both Desirae and Bootstrap looked in the direction of the voice, and Bootstrap straightened upon seeing it was his captain.

"Forgive me, Captain, I was just—"

"Getting back to work?" Jones finished for him, his voice smooth but threatening.

"…Yes, sir…"

Jones waited for the crewman to disappear back on deck before turning his full attention to Desirae. She wasn't even looking at him, flicking random shells across the cell.

"So have you decided what to do with me yet?" she asked bluntly, staring straight ahead and away from him.

"Indeed I have. If ye don't tell me what ye're doing on me ship this little chat session, then it's down to the depths with ye. That's what I've decided," Jones said, with a growl in his tone. He glared at Desirae, threatening her for like the billionth time that day.

Desirae turned and looked at him. "If I'm not mistaken, you should know why I'm here. Or did you forget about this too?"

Reaching down, she held up the pendant by the chain for him to see. The jewel center glimmered in the dim light, the little part hanging from the bottom corner spinning. Jones leaned in a little closer to get a better look, and he suddenly paused before looking up at Desirae.

"Aye... where did ye get this?"

"Then you should know why I'm here then!" Desirae suddenly stood and turned to face him fully. "I'm here because of you! Apparently I serve some purpose in something, and it's all because of you!"

"And this purpose is…?" Jones trailed off, raising a brow at her. This girl was beginning to make him curious. How did this woman know Aquila? And what did she mean by "I'm here because of you."

'_There's only one logical explanation,' _a voice in Jones' mind replied. _'No, that can't be it! The chosen one would have to be her child…'_

"Hey, it escapes my mind," said Desirae to answer his question, causing him to turn back to her. "But my foster parents told me about how one day I might end up here—"

"How do ye know Aquila?" he cut her off.

"She was my mother, of course!" snapped Desirae impatiently.

Jones paused. A long moment of silence followed after that, and it wasn't long after did Desirae begin to grow impatient. However, he suddenly got a sly smirk and chuckled while nodding.

"Ha… are you now? What an interesting little fact…"

"So happy that you have your information, but I'd like mine!" Desirae said. "What is my purpose aboard this rotten ship?"

Jones glared at her angrily, momentarily forgetting their conversation. "Be careful whose ship ye be mockin'! And yer mother handed ye over t' me, if that sparks an _interest _in ye!"

Desirae froze. "Excuse me?"

"When she gave birch to you, she put you in my care—asked me to watch over ye. What… shocked that ye're related to the Devil of the Seas?" he cackled.

Her face immediately turned from shock to anger. "Well you wouldn't tell by appearance, that's for sure!"

Jones suddenly shot his arm through the bars and moved to seize Desirae by the throat with his claw, but she was lean and nimble and managed to narrowly maneuver around the attack and jump out of his reach.

"Violent as usual, I see. Just as the legends describe. Well, it's not going to get us anywhere, now is it?!"

He was at boiling point right now. "I do not and will not take any disobedience from my crew. Ye are no acceptation!" he spoke in a growl through his teeth.

Desirae sighed. "Look, screaming at each other like this isn't going to solve anything. I don't want any trouble…" And it was actually true. She really didn't want any trouble. She just wanted answers. "If you know my mother, then you must know about the Superlative Brethren, yes?"

"No, I do not know of this Superlative Brethren. I may have met your mother, but it does not mean I am familiar with any of your strange customs. I took ye from yer mother when she asked for the mere reason we used to know each other when I wasn't captain of the _Dutchman._ However, I couldn't take a baby on board, so, by the references of your mother, I left ye in the hands of—"

"You dumped me, I grew up, and now we're here, yeah I get the gist of it, but that doesn't answer my question!" Desirae took a step forward. "How old are you now? Well, whatever it is, I've been alive just a few decades short of you! How is that possible? Even to this day I can't figure out the answer! You are Davy Jones, so I'm asking you… HOW?!"

"Again, I can't provide ye with an answer! I only knew yer mother for a few years, and she seemed as normal as ever! So stop bloody yellin' at me, woman, because I could know less!" He then looked at her strangely. "Why are ye complainin'? Ye should be thankin' whoever did this to ye!"

"Well I'm not! I've watched all my friends and 'family' die before me! Everyone keeps dying, come to think of it, and I'm the only one still alive when they shouldn't be. I want it to end! Or I at least want an answer as to why!" she shouted, immensely frustrated by this point.

Jones glared at her hard, and Desirae glared right back. Both of them were seething. Jones couldn't bring himself to believe the woman had disobeyed like she was. His mind was working hard to find a way around this. The crew could _not_ know about her or her mother. It would deface him and the fear that loomed over the ship and the sea that made them work would disappear.

"The only answer I'll give ye is that ye stay on this ship and see what ye find out," Jones snapped. "However, if ye so choose NOT to serve on this ship…well, ye seem to know me, so I'm guessin' ye know the rest." He grinned sinisterly at this.

Desirae stared at him along minute, already in deep thought. She had known this moment would come most of her life, but should she stay for something like that? It seemed not worth it, no matter how you put it. But she wanted answers, and she had gone so far to get it. There was no turning back now. And this purpose… could she ignore it if it were really true? Inhaling quietly and exhaling through her nose, she looked up at him with a stony gaze.

"I have a feeling I'm making a mistake doing this… but I'm choosing to stay on this ship…"

And with that fatal word, Jones grabbed her hand through the bars and shook, leaving the black spot brand on her hand. Just looking at her hand hade Desirae want to hurl. It was covered in green slime, but that wasn't what bothered her most. The mark seemed to be moving and growing, digging further into her skin.

"Fascinating," she said, her voice soft as she stared at her hand.

Jones "hmphed", stood, and turned to limp away.

"I am of little use in here, Jones," she called after him.

Jones didn't even bother to answer and disappeared up the stars, the patterned thunking of his crab leg echoing in Desirae's head. Staring after him a moment, she sighed while letting go of the bars and crashed in her little corner. She was in the crew now, why did he leave her here? She looked back to the brand on her palm. It was a permanent reminder of her decision and her future. By that point, if Desirae hadn't already regretted her choice, she was now. _'Lord, take me now…'_

"Move yer worthless hide, ye wench! Captain wants ye on deck!"

Desirae was rudely awoken from her sleep by a kick in the side, and she snapped her eyes open to look up at her rooster. It was the bo'sun. Great.

"I said get up, ye wretch! Captain's orders!"

"Yeah, I'm up, I'm up, don't have a heart attack." Desirae went to get up, but she was suddenly hit back to the floor.

"Watch yer tongue, whelp! And get on deck!" He stormed from the cell, leaving the door open for her to follow. She begrudgingly did so, grumbling things under her breath as she went. Why was everyone n this ship so miserable? _'Well, it's kind of obvious, isn't it, Dezi?' _She sighed inwardly. Yes, this would be a _very _long trip. _'Wonder what my fun-filled day will be like…'_

* * *

It was pouring out. It wasn't as bad as the day she'd come aboard the Dutchman, but it was raining hard enough to make work miserable. However, it seemed she wasn't the only one having a rough time....

"Aiya!"

Desirae looked up from her work, over at the prow, and she raised an eyebrow upon seeing Hadras's head rolling across the deck, through the rain. She stared after it a moment before turning to where Hadras's body was groping around for its head, which was shouting directions at it.

"No! To the right! No, no! Turn around!"

Desirae winced when the body crashed into—Maccus.

"No…. Dat's the first mate…"

"Hadras, get yer head back on yer shoulders and get back to work!" Maccus grumpily shoved the body out of this way, and because it had no head it lost balance and toppled over. Desirae furrowed her brow. _'That was mean…'_

"All right, ye idjit, get up."

She looked over towards Hadras's body again and raised her eyebrow once more when she saw that Clanker was helping the man back up. _'Well, that's different…'_ She began to wonder if she should lend a hand too. Hadras had been decent enough to her…. Should she return the favor?

Sudden loud, cackling laughter could be heard, and Desirae turned just as Jimmy Legs kicked Hadras's head and sent it skidding across the deck. The bo'sun laughed some more, and Clanker spoke up finally.

"Come on, bo'sun, leave 'im alone!"

"Mind yer business and get back to work, Clanker! Lest ye want a kiss from the Cat!"

Clanker's mouth glued shut. He didn't dare respond. Desirae shook her head in disbelief. Who did that guy think he was?

"Hey, back off!"

Jimmy Legs looked up at her sharply, as she walked across the deck towards Hadras's head. Clanker watched her through narrowed eyes, and from afar Bootstrap was keeping a wary eye on Desirae. _'I have a bad feeling about this…' _Jimmy Legs seemed to growl.

"Mind yerself, whelp! And get back to work!"

Desirae didn't say a word as she bent over to pick Hadras's head off the ground.

"Oh, thanks, lass!"

She glanced down at him. "Sure…. This happen often?"

"More than I'd like."

"Ah." She walked over to where Clanker stood with the body in handed it over.

"Thanks, lass." The body took the head, and from beside it Clanker looked up at Desirae with the same suspicious expression. Desirae ignored him completely and was about to go back to her work, when a hand roughly grabbed her arm and spun her around.

"Whelp, I thought I told ye to—"

"Go to Hell!" She roughly yanked her arm from the bo'sun's grip. That was when Bootstrap stepped forward.

"Dezi!" he hissed, through his teeth.

"I swear, when I get off this ship, I'll have your head on a platter!" Desirae snarled, glaring into his eyes hatefully. "Why do you feel you have to pick on everyone, huh? Are you that insecure—" She was cut off, however, when she was suddenly slapped across the face by the bo'sun.

"What's this?" she heard a gruff voice shout.

"We got ourselves a slacker here, sir!" answered Jimmy Legs.

"Do we now?" Jones gave Desirae an analyzing glare, which she returned coldly. "Let's introduce her to the Cat then? Five lashes." He shoved her towards the bo'sun.

"Do your worst, you bloody devil! I don't fear you! Damn you to Hell, though it seems that you're already there!" she yelled. Jones glared at her dangerously. From amongst the crowd, Bootstrap shoved through to the front of the group.

"Dezi, don't—"

"Seven lashes!" snarled Jones.

The beating was brutal and relentless, but Desirae held her ground through the whole thing. She didn't cry out, and she didn't give in. By the time Jimmy Legs was finished, she was soaked in blood, which was mixing in with the heavy rain. She lifted her head to glare at Jones, but he had already gone. Then suddenly, a dark chuckle emitted from one of the crewmembers.

"Seems the little wench doesn't know her place… like many women." Desirae slowly turned her head as Jimmy Legs spoke. He grinned at her, but before she could say anything Bootstrap came in and grabbed her arm to lead her away.

"Come on, lass, he isn't worth it."

It was obvious she wasn't any more calm as she reluctantly let him lead her away, but she decided to let it be for now and brush it off, instead helping Bootstrap with some ropes.

"Well, I wouldn't expect anything else from you, Bootstrap," continued Jimmy Legs, as they walked off.

Desirae tensed. She continued to coil ropes with Bootstrap, ignoring the bo'sun; however, he spoke again.

"What's the matter, missy? Nothin' to say fer once? What a shame. I was hopin' ye could tell me why ye're such an opposite from a lady in the first place," Jimmy Legs sneered.

Desirae continued to ignore him, and Bootstrap sighed.

"Bo'sun, leave the girl alone. She's learned her lesson for now, go bother someone else."

"Awe, what's the matter, Mr. Turner? Does it bother you I'm teasin' the girl?" Jimmy Legs taunted, in a baby voice.

"Yes, as a matter-of-fact, it does. Now please leave." Bootstrap turned back to his work, and Desirae sent him a sideways glance and small smile. Jimmy Legs shook his head in disgust.

"What a shame. Can't take care of your own, so ye take someone else's instead. Whatever." He finally turned away to go back to his job, but he added one more thing while turning. "It's not my problem anyway. Us men are interested in ladies, and the ones that aren't always take after their slut mothers."

Desirae suddenly clenched her teeth and slammed the rope down on a barrel. That was it.

As Jimmy Legs was walking across the deck, he didn't expect what was coming. Fast as lightning, someone flew in from nowhere and shoved the bo'son out of the way. He let out a surprised shout and stumbled into a few nearby crewmembers, who managed to catch him by the arms. Everyone seemed shocked by the sudden attack, and all heads looked over to see Desirae standing there, her shoulders squared and feet posed in a heated stance. A few surprised voices were heard in the form of mumbles, as the bo'sun managed to get back on his feet. He looked up at Desirae angrily and snapped his whip in her direction.

"You! Whelp! That's ten more lashes!"

"Dezi!" shouted Bootstrap.

Desirae strode over to the abhorrent bo'sun, and he immediately got an irate look and threatening snarl. He approached her.

"You got a problem, little slut?" he said dangerously.

"Yes, as a matter-of-fact, I do," replied Desirae, somewhat calmly.

Bootstrap turned away from his work just as Hadras ran forward.

"Srorms, don't!" he shouted.

Suddenly, Maccus and a crewman made completely from orange-colored coral, Palifico, were suddenly walking towards the scene, and they along with Jimmy Legs surrounded her on three sides.

"Whelp," Desirae calmly turned her head to Maccus as he approached her, "I'd get back to work, wench."

"What are you gonna do about it?"

There was a brief pause, when Desirae suddenly jerked to the side and shoved Jimmy Legs' chest, causing him to stumble backwards. She straightened back up and was greeted with a blow to the face by Maccus, but that didn't stop her from immediately coming back with a sidekick to his ribs, surprisingly earning a cry of pain from him. Palifico came at her with a balled fist, and Bootstrap, Hadras… and basically the rest of the crew stood by with wide eyes, jumping when Desirae swiftly dodged the blow and upper clipped Jimmy Legs under the chin. He backed off, and Desirae turned around to face another punch to the face from Palifico. This only seemed to anger her further, though, because she instantly ran at the guy like a charging bull and tackled him from the middle, slamming him to the ground on his back. Hadras and Clanker jumped but smirked.

"Oh!" they shouted together. Bootstrap looked horrified.

Pinning Palifico down, Desirae delivered two hard punches to his face, causing him to grunt loudly as his head hit the deck, but he was saved by Maccus that came up from behind and shoved Desirae off. She stumbled forward towards the crowd, nearly running over a little shrimpy crewman, Penrod. He let out a shout and cringed away, and Desirae's eyes widened for a split second before she jumped out of the way, sending a roundhouse kick at Maccus, who was trying to use her distraction to his advantage. It landed directly in his gut, and he stumbled back; however, when she went to finish him off, Palifico grabbed her ankle from his spot on the ground, making her trip and nearly fall. Maccus ran at her and punched her across the face, causing her to shout, but she blocked his next blow with her arm and twisted it out of her way before sending a mean punch to his side. During his distraction, and she never let go of his arm, she stomped her foot down on Palifico that was holding her leg, making him cry out as she straightened back up to punch the first mate in the face. Once he was out of the way enough for her to turn her attention to Palifico holding her ankle, she bent down and sent two iron hard punches to his face. He was forced to let go, and she jumped from his grip and lunged at Jimmy Legs, who was still trying to attack her. She used his speed against him, stepping to the side at the last minute and getting him in a headlock. From there, she proceeded to knee him three times in the groin with angry shouts, and while she was doing this she had dragged him over to where a stack of barrels were next to the mast, and she slammed him against the mast with a yell. Jimmy Legs yelled out, and she smashed his head into one of the barrels, shattering it into pieces. He fell to the ground. The crew roared.

"Holy shi—!" shouted Clanker.

But Desirae wasn't finished. She marched over to the bo'sun, and with an angry shout, she forced him onto his back before straddling him, and she then began punching the living daylights out of him, hitting every part possible. All Bootstrap could do at this point was stare in disbelief mixed with horror, neither him nor anyone else noticing the captain coming up from the crowd.

As Desirae went to bring down another blow, she was startled when she felt a slimy hand and tentacle grab her wrist and yank her up.

"That will be enough, missy," he said, quiet and calm.

She glared at him coldly, blood leaking from her lip; however, she seemed in better shape than anyone else. Jimmy Legs got to his feet.

"Why you little—!" He went to swing his fist at her, but Jones grabbed his hand before it could cause any damage.

"Enough! This fight is over, and it will not resume! Understood?" He turned his head to Maccus and Palifico as they somewhat limped up behind Jimmy Legs, Maccus with a bloody lip. They were glaring at Desirae with death stares, but Jones only smirked at them cruelly.

"Will ye be okay?" His voice was dripping with mockery. They all looked at him as the crew burst into chuckles and cruel laughs, and this only caused the three men to snap their heads back to Desirae dangerously.

"Back to work!" Jones released Desirae (more of threw her at Bootstrap) and headed back to his cabin. As the crowd began to break up, Jimmy Legs suddenly could be heard cracking his whip in the distance.

"Back to work, ye bilgerats! NOW!"

Bootstrap looked over his shoulder, turning to Desirae with a sigh.

"Well, so much for staying on his good side… or the crew's for that matter."

Desirae chuckled a little to herself. It didn't matter how hard she tried. The triumphant grin on her face would last for the rest of that day.

* * *

_Preview to next chapter:_

_"Hey, whelp."_

_Desirae turned--and immediately got a frown on her face; she scoffed._

_"What do you want, Clanker?"_

_"And a good mornin' to ye."_

_She rolled her eyes, looking straight ahead at the sea._

_"Actually, I wanted to congradulate ye."_

_She looked at him sharply in surprise. "Excuse me?"_


	5. Sorry

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTC or its characters, but in this chapter I own Desirae and the plot. Please, no flame, but I'm open for criticism. Thanks!**

**~*~*~Chapter #5~*~*~**

It had been two months since Desirae had first joined the _Flying Dutchman_ crew—two months since she had made the deal to give Jones her soul, but it felt more like two years in her eyes. The work or the pain stayed the same, if not increased, giving no slack whatsoever. In fact, Desirae was sure Jones was making sure she suffered every second of every minute of every day, going out of his way to make her miserable and give her lashings. And she was positive Maccus was contributing as much as he could as well, finding the most tedious and backbreaking jobs for her to do while he practically watched over her shoulder, snapping at every little mistake she made.

Today, though, both Jones and the First Mate were busy with other things, so Desirae was left to her business, as she was stuck scraping barnacles yet again, but this time she had a buddy. Little shrimpy Penrod, the ship's cabin boy, had been assigned the task with her, and while the others mainly thought of him as a waste of space, Desirae found him quite amusing. He was very twitchy and was almost constantly talking to her or hopping around. It seemed he was happy to have found a friend among the tough crowd, and Desirae allowed her guard to drop a little more around him. She talked to him, telling him about how she ended up here and about the _Silver Siren_, her ship.

He had many questions for her, and she answered all of them with no small amount of pride. She could almost get along with this crewman. So far, her only allies were Bootstrap, Hadras, and Penrod, but it was better than nothing. The others all still gave her the cold shoulder, many oftentimes taking every chance to pull a prank or say something nasty. However, they all also seemed to have a weird sort of respect for her personal space after the fight with their First Mate, bo'sun, and their captain's personal guard. It had been vicious, and no one had left without wounds of their own, but the one thing they all kept in mind was that Desirae has dished out the most and was hit the least amount of times.

Also, they remembered her sword fighting skills the day they captured her. She was the only female they had ever seen handle a broadsword so well, and with only one hand! They weren't the lightest weapons on the planet, and it was impressive she could hold one with just one limb. However, to Desirae's anger, it had been taken away from her when she was tossed into the brig, but she didn't worry too much about that. She would get it back eventually, whether the captain wanted her to or not.

"Hey, whelp."

Desirae turned-and immediately got a frown on her face; she scoffed.

"What do you want, Clanker?"

"And a good mornin' to ye."

She rolled her eyes, looking straight ahead at the sea.

"Actually, I wanted to congratulate ye."

She looked at him sharply in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Aye, but don't be gettin' used to it. I'm just impressed at how well ye stuck up fer yerself durin' that fight. To take on the bo'sun like that takes either lunacy or a lot o' backbone. Not to mention the Firs' Mate and Palifico were thrown into the mix. Ye got the crew talkin'."

Desirae stared at him, surprised. Exchanging glances with Penrod, who had been standing there quietly the whole time, she decided she wasn't about to give in to him.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Clanker. Now beat it, I have work to do." She tried to turn away, but he placed a hand on her shoulder to turn her back around.

"Hey—"

"Get off me!" She shoved his hand down aggressively. "Don't you DARE lay a hand on me, you sorry excuse for a man! Especially after what you tried to do down in the cargo hold!"

He winced, seeming to remember the incident all too well.

"All right, I'll admit it was my mistake—"

"Damn straight!"

"—but I wanna apologize… ye know… fer me actions. It's just been so long since we've seen a woman—"

"So, that gives you the right to rape me? Go to Hell!" Desirae snarled.

"Storms, I'd never do it again—"

"Oh really?" Her tone was mocking. "And why I'm I having such a hard time believing that? You're a disgrace, and I DON'T accept your apology. Now get out of my sight before I make your slacking noticed to ol' Jimmy Legs."

Sighing in defeat, he held his hands up in surrender, rolling his eyes.

"All right, all right, fine, I'm goin' already!" With that, he turned and left the woman by her lonesome. Desirae was fuming, but she soon let it go, snorting disdainfully in his direction before turning back to her work—only to be face-to-face with none other than Hadras.

"Hadras!" she blurted, not knowing where he had come from. He seemed to smile halfheartedly.

"I've known Clanker for a long time, and he really ain't so bad once ya get to know 'im. If ya just gave 'im a chance, you'd see that whenever he apologizes it's only when he really means it."

She merely rolled her eyes with her fists in her hips. "Then he shouldn't have done what he did. He shouldn't need a reason to apologize in the first place," she spat.

"I'm not justifyin' what he did, I'm just tellin' ya what I know. Half o' us haven't seen a woman like yaself in a _long _time, and it causes natural urges, ya know? I know the man, an' he wouldn' normally do that to a woman. I think he really is sorry."

Desirae's cold stare was directed at the ground, but it was clear she was thinking about what he said. She glanced up at the shell-headed crewmate as he continued:

"Just think about what I said, that's all I'm askin' of ya." With that, he left.

Desirae's eyes followed his retreating form until it was lost in the crowd, and she sighed heavily to herself. _'Why do I feel like he's right?' _she thought, in frustration. _'Whatever. I'm not approaching him about it. If he comes to me again, which I know he won't, then I'll put it into consideration.' _

It was raining hard on the Dutchman's deck, the sky painted with black and grays, mist covering the open sea and giving it an eerie appearance. The bucketing rain was congesting Desirae's vision, which didn't make her work any easier. At least Jones wasn't there to see her so miserable. Jimmylegs saw this as an all too good opportunity to get back at her for earlier, and he stuck out his foot, tripping Desirae and causing her to face-plant herself on the deck.

The crew instantly burst out laughing, pointing and jeering in her direction. She lifted herself up with her arms and instantly snapped her head around to glare at them hatefully. Enough was enough. She pushed herself to her feet and turned towards the bo'sun.

"Pity that's the best you can do," she mocked. "Sticking your foot out… I'll admit it suits your level of originality."

He only grinned at her sadistically. "It worked, didn't it?" He laughed cruelly at her expense.

"Not as well as a kick where it counts," she bit back, bristling.

"Watch it, whelp," he sneered suddenly. "Unless, of course, ye want another floggin'."

"Crack that thing across my back as many times you like. It didn't do anything last time, and it won't change the next time you do it. If it's a scream you're looking for, then I'm glad to disappoint you."

He frowned at her. She was witty, he'd give her that, but it wouldn't escape her of a flogging. He grabbed the handle of the whip and snapped it from around his waist, cracking loudly it for display. Desirae's stance was a clear sign she was ready for a fight, her shoulders squared and her legs spread apart some, hands balled into fists. Her eyes dared him to make the first move.

By this time, the entire crew had stopped chuckling and snickering amongst themselves, their full attentions on the two. They had formed a circle around them, giving them plenty of space. Whispers and murmurs floated through the crowd, excitement practically radiating off of all of them. Another fight was brewing.

"What be this, then?" The First Mate then chose to make his appearance, and his eyes widened when he saw the two had started to circle each other. Her again! He got a snarl.

"Storms!"

Her head snapped up at him, as he stormed up to her. She stood her ground, even as he got in her face, towering over her.

"Is yer memory suddenly short-term? No brawls, or it's the Cat for ye!"

She opened her mouth to respond, but Bootstrap came in at the last second and grabbed her shoulder.

"Just let it go, Dezi." He tried to lead her away, and she was reluctant at first, glaring at the First Mate. However, she eventually turned and backed down, following Bootstrap down to the hold. She could feel Maccus's and Jimmy Legs' eyes follow her and burn into her back the whole way down.


End file.
